Monday, July 11

patriarchal

once upon a time, I took a bunch of photographs out in my dad's garage. these are just a few of them.
the garage is not where the family vehicles live. there are too many tools and things in there to fit any cars in. instead, there are shelves and shelves of camping supplies, boxes and boxes of random hardware and scraps of leather. old furniture and bicycles hang from the ceiling. cabinets. toolboxes. buckets. an anvil. a forge. lots of rope. isn't there a lathe in there somewhere? pliers and hammers and vices and clamps and knives and screws and glue and bolts and pipe and saws and sandpaper... it all takes up space.
the garage is probably where you will find my dad when he isn't at work, sleeping, or on a camping trip. the radio will be on. (actually the radio is usually on in the garage, even when dad isn't out there.) the doors will be open. he'll spend whole afternoons fixing things or moving stuff around or carving or hammering or working on some project or other.
my dad collects wood just as veraciously as I collect blank paper and empty journals. he has a few hundred long, straight tree limbs that he's saving to make walking sticks out of. there are logs and planks and boards and weirdly-shaped scraps. walnut and pine and birch and oak of all kinds. the entire garage is practically full of wood. my dad can tell you exactly where he got each piece.
other stuff collects in the garage, too. I don't even know what these round things are, but if they weren't so thick and heavy they would make an awesome pair of clocks, I think. wouldn't they? maybe I'm crazy.
don't ask me why or where or when I got on such a clock-making kick, but now I joke with dad all the time about making clocks out of some of the junk that ends up lying around the garage. seriously though: old circular saw blades = brilliant clock faces. yes?
I took these photographs at least two years ago, and now almost none of this stuff is in our garage anymore. it's being packed up and moved, little by little, into the giant shed behind our new house. that is where all the tools and camping supplies will live. that is where sawdust and wood shavings will begin to pile up. and that is where we will find dad from now on, carving eagles out of whale bone or crafting feathers out of rawhide, at least when he's not at work or sleeping.